When One Door Closes
by bri617
Summary: Chap 1: After running into Felicity during a girl's night out, Oliver gets an earful from her best friend about how he's screwed up her life. Chap 2: Oliver faces Felicity. Yes, her loud voice will be used. Fluff wins in the end. Olicity, COMPLETED TWOSHOT
1. When One Door Closes

Title: When One Door Closes...

Summary:

Felicity is at Verdant on a night out with her best friend who decides it's about time that Oliver heard about a secret that Felicity's been keeping from him.

"Well, aren't you a little, self-righteous hypocrite, _Mr. Queen_," Lindsey spat out, venom practically seeping from her words.

"How does it feel to have destroyed a career?"

A/N: I rewatched a few (read: all) Olicity scenes from the past two seasons in impatient anticipation of the 3rd Season. Is it October yet? Anyways, I was and still am a little annoyed by how the whole Felicity becomes Oliver's EA thing was played out. Yes, she gave him a piece of her mind in Ep 2, but that was basically it right? The topic wasn't really broached again, which is why I'm doing it here. Giving Oliver a much needed reality check and maybe some stuff to consider. This was supposed to be a completely different story but it turned into this. Hope you like it ;)

Oh and btw, I started writing the original idea before the S2 finale so I didn't include the Thea storyline with her being away and all that. She stayed in Starling and is still with Roy in this story.

**Disclaimer: Idea and the OC belong to me, the rest belongs to DC and The CW. No Copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

><p>Felicity Smoak leaned back in her lounge chair, enjoying the alcohol swirling over her tongue, surrounded by a relaxed atmosphere in the recently opened lounge section of Verdant called 'Serena'.<p>

After Slade had left a path of destruction running through the entire city, Thea had once again taken charge in rebuilding Verdant but not without extending the night club by a new section. Under Oliver's watchful eyes, the club had added a new room that could either be completely closed off from the rest of the club to preserve the relaxed ambiance, or used as an extension of the club by adding another dance floor if need be.

Felicity had helped Thea with the planning of the renovations, as well as helping her with finding an additional club manager to give her a breather from time to time. Between that and getting not only Team Arrow but also Oliver as the CEO of Queen Consolidated back on track, she barely managed to get more than five hours of sleep every night.

Tonight, though, she finally had a night off. Sunday nights were QC, club business and, most importantly, Arrow free nights. A fact she'd fought for with the rest of Team Arrow. She'd finally won them over (read: annoyed them long enough) by showing them a lengthy PowerPoint presentation that showcased crime statistics for Starling City for the past twenty years, depicting a clear trend that on Sunday nights crime rates were lower than on all other nights of the week.

Diggle was quick to support her in her endeavor and finally Oliver had budged and agreed to give them all a day off but not without the condition to monitor crime stats to react properly if they started to rise again and being "on-call" if an imminent threat came along.

"So, Lissy, on a scale from 1 to 10, how good is Oliver Queen really in bed?"

Felicity choked on the sip of Martini she'd just taken. Her eyes wide, she looked up at her friend through her glasses.

"Wh… What?" she choked out, unable to hide the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.

Taking in her reaction, her friend Lindsey leaned back with a self-satisfied grin. "Well, you're dating him, aren't you?" She raised an inquisitive eye brow.

"Uh, I… err…" For once in her life, Felicity Smoak actually didn't know what to say.

Lindsey narrowed her eyes. "It's all over the gossip sites." She pulled out her phone, swiping over the screen a few times, before showing it to her blonde friend.

Felicity took the phone and almost dropped it. The brightly lit screen showed the familiar suit clad back of Oliver Queen turned away from the camera, but not enough to hide his face. An also very familiar pair of bare legs wrapped around his waist, high heel clad feet locked at the ankles. Her eyes drifted up over the broad set of shoulders, hidden under his designer suit jacket.

The fingertips of his right hand are lightly pressed into the woman's blonde locks between her ear and temple. The rest of his hand cupping her cheek just next to where his mouth is apparently devouring the blonde's lips.

But Felicity knows better, because it's not just some random blonde, it's _her_. It's her wrapped tightly around his taut, muscled body. Her heels digging into his ass. Her back pressed into the cold stone wall.

_Shit._

"Holy crap, it _is_ you." Lindsey gaped at her.

"I… wait. I thought you knew it was me?" It was Felicity's turn to raise her eye brows inquisitively.

Her best friend had the decency to look slightly contrite. "Well, I was like 60 percent sure. But you're reaction just added the missing 40. Wanna tell me how this came to be?" She motioned to her phone in Felicity's hand, who in turn looked at the compromising photo again, memories from the previous night taking over her brain.

Oliver had attended a fundraiser for the Glades Foundation that was hosted by Richard Pierce, a business man from Central City who happened to be on The List. Since the fundraiser was being held at the mansion Pierce owned in Starling City, Felicity had quickly pulled up blue prints and security footage from around the area to come up with a plan to infiltrate his network.

Oliver and Felicity had gone to the fundraiser together, with Diggle joining them in his role as their black driver/body guard. Roy had stayed in the foundry with Laurel and Sara to be their eyes and ears.

The plan had worked smoothly for a while. Felicity and Oliver had slipped away from the rest of the party into the roped off area of the house and quickly found the computer that Felicity had to work her magic on.

Just when they left the office, Roy had warned them of two heat signatures coming their way. Without thinking, Oliver had grabbed her just under her ass, lifted her up, all while he was whirling around to press her back against the wall. Instinctively, Felicity had wrapped her legs around him, causing her dress to hike up at her thighs.

Oliver had placed his right hand on the side of her head, his fingers digging lightly into her hair, the tips massaging the nervous tension away with the slightest of movements. He had lowered his head down to hers and she could feel his hot breath mingling with hers. Both were breathing a bit harder than usually, spurred on by the intimacy of the situation. His lips were brushing against the skin just next to the corner of her mouth, sending little shots of electricity through her entire body.

After a few seconds, Roy had given them the all clear, effectively breaking the spell. With wide eyes Oliver had pushed away from the wall, setting her down gently, stoically avoiding to meet her gaze. Safe to say the rest of the evening had been slightly more awkward than usually.

A glass breaking somewhere in the distance pulled her out of her memory. Taking a deep breath to buy her some more time, she finally answered, "It's…"

"I swear if you say complicated, I'll consider slapping you," Lindsey interjected.

"… a long story," Felicity finished cautiously.

Her friend groaned. "Great, because that's any better. I want details, sister," she pressed on. "The juicy kind. Is he or is he not the sex god he's made out to be?"

Felicity couldn't help the blush spreading over her cheeks.

"Oh please, Lis, don't get all shy on me now. We've always been open with each other about _every_ aspect of our lives. I mean, remember when you told me about that one time when you were a TA you had sex with your professor in one of the university broom closets? Or how Josh tried to go down on you but was so horrible at it that you ended up faking an orgasm just to make him stop?"

Felicity groaned. "Yes, I remember, but thanks for bringing it up anyway. God, I swear he ruined that experience for me. I don't think I've let any guy's tongue go there since then," she quickly added in hopes of sidetracking her friend enough to not bring up Oliver again.

"Well, I hear Mr. Queen has quite the golden tongue, so maybe he can eradicate your fear of being poorly eaten out." Lindsey winked at her. "Anyways, is his dick as impressive as the rest of his body? I mean you always had a knack for big boys, so I'll assume that he also falls into that category"

_Aaaaand there goes that plan. Why did that stupid photographer have to be there last night, taking that stupid photo._

Felicity burrowed her head in her hands. "Oh my God, Linds, I don't know okay?!"

"So you haven't fucked him yet?"

"No!"

"Why the hell not?"

Felicity looked up at her friend. "Because our… relationship isn't like _that_."

"But you _are_ in fact in a relationship with him?" Lindsey questioned with spiked interest.

"Yes. No. In a sense… I don't know," she finished, letting out an exasperated sigh. "We're… friends. I'm his right hand."

That earned her a pointed glance. "His right hand, huh? Is that part of your official job description? We're getting a little too stereotypical with the whole secretary lending more than a hand to her boss thing, aren't we?"

"That's not what I meant, Linds," Felicity countered, a growing annoyance evident in her voice.

Just then the familiar form of their waiter neared their table and Felicity waved him over, grateful for the distraction.

"Mr. Harper," she said with a smirk.

"Ms. Smoak," Roy gave her a lopsided grin. "Can I get you and your friend another round?"

"That would be very kind of you. Nice bow tie by the way." She winked at him.

Roy clenched his teeth, suppressing a snide remark. "I'll be right back with your order."

"Exactly how often are you here? You already managed to get us in without waiting outside thanks to your bouncer friend and now you have a direct line to the bar?"

"Well, I recently spent quite a lot of time here to do some IT stuff. The servers were badly damaged during the attacks last summer. And Thea asked me to take a look at and update the homepage, especially now that all the renovations are done," she let out in a rush, silently hoping that her explanation was plausible enough that her friend would let her off the hook.

Lindsey narrowed her eyes suspiciously but to Felicity's relief didn't press her for more details.

"So, you were telling me about your yes-no-maybe so-relationship with your boss," she started and added more seriously, "Lis, I've heard the rumors about _how_ you got that… promotion. And I swear that I never bought into any of that crap and defended you like crazy but this photo…"

Felicity's face grew stony again but before she could counter the not so subtle accusation, she felt a hand finding its usual place resting on top of her shoulder.

The instant spread of warmth and a feeling of safety radiating from the point of contact throughout her entire body, filling every last pore with a sense of serenity, paired with her friend's stunned gasp, made it unnecessary for her to turn around. She already knew who those long fingers lightly massaging her tense muscles belonged to.

She let herself close her eyes for a second, sighing softly and relishing in that brief moment of calm.

From behind, she heard his voice dangerously low and controlled, and by the way his fingers flexed lightly on her shoulder, she could tell that he had a hard time controlling his response.

"Ms. Smoak got that promotion by showing continued and tireless dedication and loyalty to Queen Consolidated and me personally," he stated through gritted teeth, never dropping the fake CEO smile he reserved for unpleasant meetings. "A behavior that you might be able to learn a thing or two from, Ms. Jennings. If you feel like you have enough time to engage in water cooler chitchat, maybe I should have a talk with your supervisor to make sure that you're tasked with a more demanding assignment."

"Oliver," Felicity sighed and leaned her head back so she could look up at Oliver who was standing behind her lounge chair, right hand still firmly placed on her shoulder, his stance mirroring that of his hood-donning alter ego. "Just drop it."

He finally looked down at her. "Why should I? It's not fair how she talks about you… about us," he growled.

Before she could react, her friend chimed in and judging by her expression and rigid composure, Oliver was in for quite a ride.

Lindsey narrowed her eyes. "Well, aren't you a little self-righteous hypocrite, _Mr. Queen_," she spat out, venom practically seeping from her words. "You've got some nerves talking about 'fair'."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he ground out at the same time as Felicity shot a warning glare at her friend. "Linds, don't."

The brunette ignored her friend stoically and continued to stare Oliver down. "How does it feel to have destroyed a career, Mr. Queen?"

Felicity closed her eyes briefly before risking a glance back at Oliver. He still glared at Lindsey but she could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. Suddenly, his gaze flickered down to meet hers. His intense look softened immediately but didn't lose that sliver of uncertainty.

It took him a second to regain his composure before he looked at Lindsey again. "What do you mean?"

Lindsey shot Felicity an incredulous glare. "You haven't told him?"

"Haven't told me _what_?" Oliver growled.

"She hasn't told you about the job offers that have been piling up on her desk basically since the start of freshman year at MIT. And before you came into her life, she actually used to consider them. Do you have any idea how crazy smart this woman is? Other companies have been sending headhunters after her since _before_ she graduated from college. She's been offered head of department positions, hell, she's been offered to have the development of her _own_ company fully funded, even after you yanked her out of the IT department last year to make her fetch your coffee."

By this point she had talked herself into a rage, voice loud enough for neighboring tables to turn their heads. "And yet, what does she do? She rejects them. Every last one of them. Instead of getting one step closer to ruling the fucking world, she chooses to keep playing your glorified secretary. Why is that, Mr. Queen? What do you have on her that makes her go through hell and back every day at the office, taking shit from everybody around her?"

With every accusation, Felicity felt Oliver's body cringe ever so slightly behind her and his hand loosened on her shoulder gradually until only his fingertips were brushing lightly against her shoulder blade.

She knew this was hitting him hard and it would only feed his ever present guilt for everything that was happening around him. But for once, Felicity didn't have the strength to interrupt her friend, because, essentially, what she was saying was true.

She had had plenty of job offers from the biggest IT firms around the world, basically rolling out a red carpet for her if only she agreed to their _very_ tempting conditions.

But she didn't. By now, she didn't even read the proposals anymore, instead, she just buried them in a drawer, which Lindsey had quite appropriately titled The Drawer of Hopes and Dreams.

Her friend's voice jerked her backed into the present. "I've heard the stories about your… skills in the sack, but you can't possibly be _this_ good, to basically make someone give up their whole fucking career."

Lindsey's words shot through the thick club air like Oliver's arrows, one by one hitting him.

Felicity finally chanced another glance back at him. He looked… shocked. Uncertainty and confusion edged into the hard features of his handsome face. She could basically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to process the information and not so subtle accusations Lindsey was throwing at him.

"That's enough," Felicity said, voice somewhere between determination and resignation. "Linds, how about we call it a night?"

After a long moment and shooting a piercing look at her friend, Lindsey sighed and nodded. "Fine, I'll go pay."

She moved to get up but Oliver's quiet voice interrupted her. "It's on the house."

The brunette mustered him for a second. "Well then, let's go Lis," she said and shot Felicity an expectant glance.

Felicity got up, grabbing her jacket and purse in the process. "Good night, Oliver," she all but whispered when she passed him, not daring to meet his eyes. What had just happened?

Did she just destroy her partnership with him by not cutting off her friend sooner? By letting her speak the hard truth that she had successfully kept from him for almost 2 years now? But then again, maybe this was something that needed to be out in the open.

Did she want to hurt him with this? Obviously not.

Did she sometimes feel underappreciated when he barked his orders at her? On occasion, yes.

Did she feel like he took her presence in all aspects of his life for granted at times? Again yes, she thought, flashing back to one year ago when he'd made her his EA without even talking to her first.

Did she think he needed to know that she'd passed up a lot of possibly life altering opportunities to remain by his side? Yes.

Not like this though. He didn't deserve to be told by a stranger. She should've had the courage to tell him. She should've had enough trust in him and their partnership to talk to him openly about this.

She should've… but she didn't.

Out of fear. Thinking she would lose him one way or another. Assuming that he'd push her away; push her out of his life so she could go follow her dreams without feeling guilty. Taking another decision about her life out of her hands.

She arrived at the door and she couldn't help but feel like that by leaving the club she'd also leave a part of her life. She'd be at work bright and early tomorrow morning not bringing Oliver his coffee, there was no question about that. But she knew it'd be different after tonight. Their already complicated relationship had taken a massive hit tonight. Nothing would be the same.

With one last fleeting thought about Oliver's pained expression she heard the door close shut behind her with a loud thunk.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: Since I'm chronically bored at my new job, I'm thinking about writing a sequel from Oliver's POV that will begin after the last scene of this story. Trying to fix things or actually pushing Felicity away or something, even though I'm a sucker for happy endings. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Another One Opens

**Title: Another One Opens**

**Summary: Oliver faces Felicity. Yes, her loud voice will be used. Fluff wins in the end.**

**A/N: Wrote this almost entirely during work. Not sure what that says about me... or my work :D**  
><strong>And once again this ended up completely different from what I had envisioned at first. A lot less angst in this one. Hope you enjoy it though :)<strong>

**Disclaimer: Idea is mine. Characters belong to DC Comics and The CW. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

><p>Oliver stood frozen in place, staring at the empty lounge chair that had been vacated by Felicity mere seconds ago.<p>

Not many things managed to really surprise him anymore. Over the years, especially during the five years on and off the island, he'd become so accustomed to reading people, detecting lies, that he was truly shocked to find out about what Felicity had been keeping from him.

It was imperative for his survival to always know what the people around him were thinking, in order for him to act accordingly. Until now, he'd believed he was not only good at reading enemies that were threatening his life but also at interpreting the behavior and emotions of the few friends he let close him, including Felicity.

Felicity, who he thought to be an open book, never quite able to restrain her too quick for her own good tongue. Felicity, who was one of the few people in his life that called him out on his bullshit, not scared to tell him the truth no matter how much it may hurt.

And yet, in this case she hadn't. Instead of talking to him about what was bothering her, she'd chosen to remain silent.

He couldn't stop the sharp pang of hurt that erupted somewhere in his chest and quickly spread into every last cell in his body.

Why had she chosen to keep quiet? Did she not trust him?

The mere thought of that hurt almost more than the words that her friend had flung at him.

His eyes drifted over the chair, halting at the sight of yellow. Her scarf. She'd left it behind. Picking it up, he felt the softness of the fabric on his fingers, her unique scent lingering amidst the fine threads, drifting up to his nose.

"Yo, boss, where did Barbie run off to? They didn't even wait for their drinks," came Roy's voice from behind him, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

His head snapped around to meet the younger man's questioning look. "Home," he growled."Put their drinks on my tab."

"Ah man, she forgot her scarf." He moved to take it from Oliver's hands. "I can take it home with me later."

"Home?" Oliver asked, scrunching up his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yeah, home. You know that I've been crashing at her place for a few nights a week. Usually on the weekends and if patrolling takes longer than midnight," Roy explained like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Oliver's face grew stony. How had he not known about this?

Through gritted teeth he said, "Tonight you're not. I'll bring her the scarf."

"But..."

He didn't hear the rest of Roy's objection as he was already halfway at the door, his fingers gripping the yellow cloth like his life depended on it.

* * *

><p>It had only taken him 15 minutes to get to her place on his motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic on his way to the suburbs, following a route that was so familiar by now.<p>

How many times had he followed her home (without her knowing) to make sure she got there safely, untouched by the darkness and violence that was still lingering in the corners of Starling despite his team's best efforts to clean up the city.

How many times had he stood in the shadows until she had turned off every last light in the house and even the fluorescent light of her tablet had stopped illuminating the darkness of her bed room, indicating that she had finally found sleep.

He occupied his usual spot in the dark shadows of an alleyway with a perfect view of her house for almost half an hour, watching her shadow move around behind the closed curtains a few times, seeing the flicker of the TV bathe the room in a light blue light.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally got off his bike leaving it hidden in the shadows of the empty alleyway. He took a few tentative steps, her scarf still clutched in his hand, before he stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell was he supposed to say?

What irked him most about tonight, except for the obvious verbal slap he'd received courtesy of Felicity's friend, was how quiet Felicity herself had been. Unlike so many other times when someone had been trying to belittle him in some way, this time she hadn't jumped in to defend him. Now that he thought about it, she hadn't even tried to deny what her friend had said.

That meant only one thing: all of it was true.

The tempting job offers, the cruel gossip, the fact that he'd inadvertently halted her career. All of it.

The merciless truth left him breathless for a second, feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach.

He had to talk to her, find out why she wouldn't trust him with her problems. That was what it essentially came down to, right? A lack of trust.

With a new-found motivation he closed the distance to her house and knocked on her door before he could talk himself out of it.

A few seconds later, the door flung open, revealing Felicity in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt that looked a lot like one of his. Her body was turned away from the door, facing towards her living room or more precisely her TV. There was a spoon in the hand that didn't rest on the door knob. Without so much as sparing him a glance she started walking back to her couch, never letting her eyes drift from the TV screen.

"How many times have I told you that you have a key for this exact situation? You know how much I hate being interrupted while watching Game of Thrones," she said while plopping down on her couch and grabbing the pint of ice cream from her coffee table in one fluid motion.

Oliver stood motionless in her doorway for a moment, waiting for his brain to catch up with the sight in front of him.

"Felicity," he finally barked, angry at her distracted carelessness.

She jumped up from the couch and whirled around upon hearing his voice, holding the spoon in front of her like it was a weapon. And really, if he and Digg hadn't spent the last 2 years drilling safety procedures into her, he probably would've laughed at her startled expression.

When she realized it was him, her body relaxed visibly and her spoon-armed hand fell to her side.

"You're not Roy," she noted and scrunched her eyebrows together.

"No, I'm not," he answered and finally stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him with a little more force than necessary. "I could've been anybody! I could've been here to rob you or worse."

"Yeah, because robbers usually knock on your door first," she murmured, clearly not liking to be scolded like a little child.

He took a few more steps towards her, clenching his teeth together. "Fe-lic-ity. This isn't a joke." His tone was warning, his voice not much unlike the Arrow's.

She narrowed her eyes in response. "No! You do _not_ get to use that voice on me, mister," she hissed, pointing the spoon at him. "And if you're only here to reprimand me, you can turn around and get the hell out of my house."

He was taken aback by her resoluteness. Taking a deep breath, he finally lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"Sorry," he said, his voice softer than before.

Felicity nodded slowly but didn't invite him to sit down. "What are you doing here?" She sounded exasperated and tired.

Damn good question.

"I… ," he started.

"You… what, Oliver? Look, I'm tired and just wanna watch one of my favorite TV shows, eat ice cream and enjoy the last few hours of free time before another exhausting week starts, okay?!"

"I came to talk… about earlier," he said cautiously.

She let out a humorless chuckle. "I refer to my previous answer," said and plopped down on the couch focusing on what was happening on the screen, her back to Oliver once again.

Oliver ground his teeth together, clutching the scarf in his hand a little harder.

God, this woman could be frustrating.

He rounded the couch until he was in front of her. "Can't you just pause that for a minute?" he asked and motioned at the TV.

"Nope," she answered simply, popping the 'p', never taking her eyes off the screen.

He let out an annoyed huff, not used to being ignored by people. Especially by her.

"Why not?" He asked and was instantly annoyed by how much he sounded like a petulant child.

"My house, my rules."

"And what rule is keeping you from talking to me?"

"Number 7: Don't pause Game of Thrones under any circumstances; exceptions for this rule are specified in the addendum under Special Circumstances," she rattled off like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Oliver looked dumbfounded. "You're serious…"

He shook his head. Of course she was serious.

"Can you at least look at me?" He asked, quickly adding, "Please."

She tore her gaze away from the screen, looking straight at him with a pensive expression, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side in a silent question.

"I really wanna talk to you," he said quietly.

"Okay." She nodded slowly. "_After_ this episode. Sit," she said and patted the open space on the couch next to her.

He gave her another exasperated sigh but she interrupted him before could argue.

"No, Oliver. You can either sit down and wait the 25 minutes until this episode is over, or you can leave. Like I said, today is my day off, so for once I'm not gonna drop everything just because you want something from me," she said with finality, turning her attention back to her TV after one last piercing glare in his direction.

Oliver stared at her for a full minute, confused and fascinated by her entire demeanor that night. He stifled a smile when he finally sat down next to her. This woman never ceased to amaze him.

While he was waiting for the episode to be over a.k.a. watching Felicity watch the episode, he wondered what he should say to her.

He wasn't good at talking, didn't like it, really. To him it was probably the most exhausting part of being back in civilization. It made him feel vulnerable and that was a feeling that he couldn't afford in his line of (nighttime) business.

Talking meant disclosing feelings and opinions, opening himself to people. In other words, acting against any and every instinct he had developed while on the island.

Words could kill. He'd learned that the hard way.

His mind flashed back to a few months ago when he was standing in the mansion's foyer and told Felicity he loved her. Knowing full well that that expression of his feelings would put a gigantic target on her back. Of course, in that instant it had been part of the plan to strip Slade of his Mirakuru powers and put him behind bars for good. Nevertheless, it showed how destructive and deadly words could be.

He startled when he felt the warmth of Felicity's hand on his knee.

"Oliver?" her soft voice rang through to his brain, pulling him out of his thoughts, his gaze starting to focus on her worried eyes.

"Where did you go just now?" she asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

He took a deep breath. "Just… Can we please talk?"

Lifting her hand from his knee and furrowing her eyebrows, she finally conceded, "Fine. You want some wine? I feel like I'll need wine for this."

Just when she was getting up from the couch, his hand shot out and grabbed hers, curling his fingers through hers, effectively stopping her from leaving.

Her eyes snapped to his while she sucked in a breath. And honestly, he couldn't blame her. When he touched her skin, it felt like little shocks of electricity were surging through him, filling every cell of his body with something he couldn't quite put a name to.

For a moment she responded to the pressure of his fingers, squeezing hers little, before she wriggled out of his grasp and walked to her kitchen without sparing him another glance.

Oliver took that moment to inhale deeply and try to regain his composure. Never in his life had a simple touch rattled him that much. What the hell was this woman doing to him?

She came back with a bottle of red wine (what else?) but only one glass. She produced a bottle of water out of the pocket of her sweatpants and threw it in his direction before she poured herself a healthy amount of wine.

At his frowning look, she answered, "What? You're driving in the foreseeable future. House rule number 5 forbids you from drinking alcohol under my roof."

"You're…" Kidding, he wanted to say but her stoic facial expression kept him from risking further wrath. "Not kidding. How many house rules do you have? And you know I could just call Digg."

"No, you couldn't," she countered, "It's Sunday a.k.a. no-work-day in Arrowland, unless there's an imminent threat to the city or any member of the team, of course."

He opened and closed his mouth before deciding to just drop the topic rather than keeping a discussion alive that he knew he'd never win. Instead, he blurted out, "Is it true?"

Calmly, she brought the rim of her wine glass to her lips and took a long sip.

He couldn't help but let his eyes drop down to her lips as the dark liquid covered the pink skin of her lips, and then further down to the smooth skin of her throat as she swallowed. God damnit, how could something so trivial as drinking wine be so fucking sexy.

In an involuntary reaction his tongue darted out and wet his lips.

Slowly, he was able to tore his gaze away from her soft skin, trying to not consider all the ways he could find out how smooth it really was. When their eyes locked again he saw different emotions whirling through her cerulean eyes; surprise, wonder, _desire_...

She held his gaze for a few more seconds before asking, "Why do you want to talk about it?"

"Because judging by how you welcomed me tonight and how you reacted earlier, it's a problem that needs to be discussed."

"Are you sure it's not because you want to make sure that it's not in fact true. Make sure that you're not the guilty party here?" she questioned.

He clenched his jaw together.

"What do you want me to say, Oliver?" Her voice was quiet.

"The truth," he replied instantly.

She regarded him for a second. "Are you sure can handle it?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "Yes."

"So you promise me that no matter what I tell you, you'll not push me out of your life?"

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes before responding, "But..."

She cut him off immediately, "No 'but', Oliver. You promise me right now that you won't walk out of my life or force me out of yours. Or you can leave right now and we'll forget anything that was said tonight. Your choice."

He shot up from his position on the couch, no longer able to sit still. He stepped a few feet away and took another deep steadying breath.

This was it. The make-it or break-it moment.

If he made her that promise there was no going back. As many promises he'd made over the years only to break them later, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he broke this one. If he broke her trust.

But he also knew that he couldn't leave now, not when this was impacting their partnership. He had to do this even if his instincts told him to push her as far away from him as possible, trying to keep her safe and protected from everything bad in this world even if that meant not having her in his life.

He turned to face her, searching her gaze. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper, "I promise."

She regarded him intently for a few moments until a small smile formed on her lips and her body visibly relaxed. "Okay then, ask away."

"How bad are the rumors?" He asked, guilt seeping from his voice.

She sighed. "They're… nothing I can't handle. And they're somewhat understandable, you know?"

"How can it be understandable?"He questioned, frowning.

"Try to look at this situation from an outsider's perspective. Young, blonde woman from the IT department gets "promoted" to be the billionaire playboy-turned-CEO's assistant. To them it looks like I'm lending you more than a hand, as Lindsey put it so nicely. And it doesn't help that we show up at most charity events you go to together."

"Because most of the time we're working a case."

"True, but others don't know that. They don't know what we're doing at night so they create a scenario that explains our public behavior. I'd be lying if I said that I'm not bothered by it but I'm getting my own kind of revenge on them." She winked at him. "Some people may or may not find themselves on the no-fly list for no apparent reason from time to time."

He shook his head and chuckled. "You're remarkable."

The proud smile she shot made him turn somber again, remembering that he wasn't the only one who knew that.

"How many job offers have you had?" He asked quietly, knowing full well that this was the far bigger issue.

"I don't know." At his disbelieving look she amended, "I stopped counting a while ago."

"How close did you get to accepting them?" he asked, trying not to let his torn emotions show too much.

"Oliver..." She was reluctant to answer. That couldn't possibly be a good sign. But once again something in his eyes must've prompted her to continue. "I've had several interviews."

He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Not able to suppress the 'oh' that escaped his lips, he averted his eyes from hers.

He wasn't sure why it hit him so hard that she had gone so far as to talk to the execs of other companies. Maybe it was because until now he had never entertained the thought of her leaving QC… and him. Inwardly, he scolded himself for his narrow-mindedness. Of course, she'd gotten offers and of course she'd considered them, any other behavior wouldn't align with her smart nature.

With a sinking heart he had to acknowledge that despite how he sometimes treated her and her talents, she wasn't _his_. She was a strong, independent woman with a mind and life of her own.

He didn't realize that she had stood up until he felt her hands grasp his, applying light pressure. His name tumbled from her lips in a quiet, pleading tone.

It took him a few more seconds to find her gaze. "Are you leaving?" he asked, not even caring how broken his voice sounded.

She gave him a small smile. "No. Those interviews were all before you cramped yourself into my car with a bullet lodged into your shoulder."

She squeezed his hands once more in a reassuring gesture before tugging him with her back towards the couch.

"I can transfer you back to the IT department, make you head of it. Or I can fund your own company. I can do that," he urged.

She let go of his hands at that. "That's not how normal people overcome obstacles. You can't just throw money at a problem and expect it to just go away like nothing happened," she groaned, frustration seeping into her voice.

"Well, it's been working quite well for my whole life. And it's better than you being unhappy," he growled back at her.

Now it was her turn to stand up and pace around her living room. "See that's the main problem right there. Your head is buried so deep in that big pile of guilt and self-loathing that you don't actually know what's happening around you. Instead of sitting down and _talking_ to the rest of the team, you either train like a madman or draw back to brood in some dark corner."

She sat back down, shutting his protests down with a pointed glare. "Yes, you are our leader. But being a leader means more than barking orders at everybody and expecting us all to just fall in line. Especially now that the team has grown, we need to know each other in order to _trust_ each other."

"I know you," he protested.

Felicity scoffed. "What's my favorite color?"

"Red."

"Wrong. What kind of music do I listen to?"

"Mainstream."

"Wrong. What's my favorite season?"

"Summer."

"Wrong. Should we keep going or have I proven my point?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows in question.

He clenched his jaw. "And you're telling me that Digg would know this stuff?"

She laughed. "Digg knows more about me than my own mother." She paused, looking at his torn expression. "The point of this is that if you stopped to look around you from time to time you'd know how I feel about this whole issue."

Furrowing his brows, he asked, "And how do you feel?"

"I'm happy." He let out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Are things perfect? No. But what we do, especially our nighttime activities, makes me feel happy and content."

"But all those opportunities…"

"Are great and if my life were any different I'd probably jump at them, I'll admit that. But right now I can't imagine leaving Team Arrow or QC," she assured him.

"Right now… But eventually you _will_ leave?"

"I know that I haven't had the best role model in the mother department but some day I want to have a family. A husband and kids. But combining that with the Arrow duties? We've all seen how exhausting these past few months have been for John and he's not even the one who's pregnant with the little Digglet," she said in soft tone.

He swallowed thickly. "So you have someone you can envision having that with? White picket fence and all?"

Once again, he held his breath. Annoyed that he had to admit that she was right. He didn't really know much about her. Was she dating anyone? Someone that she could see a serious future with?

She chose her words carefully, looking straight at him. "There is someone, but I don't know how he feels about it... about me."

Woah, wait. Was she talking about him?

Her blue orbs didn't waver from his when he let out a heavy breath of air. Unbidden flashes of them together were overpowering his brain. Of them making love. Of him chasing after a little child while she was standing on the patio of the mansion, cradling her swollen stomach in her hands. Of him kissing her very pregnant belly before going to sleep. Of him spending the rest of his life falling asleep and waking up with her in his arms.

He blinked a few times, trying to get back to the present. "What's he like?"

She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. "He wears a lot of masks. Sometimes he's this insufferable, arrogant, spoilt brat that seems to attract particularly imbecile bimbos. Then there's the always in control, reckless, deadly, yet courageous and inspiring hero that keeps watch over his city and those he loves."

Oliver couldn't help the light shudder running through him that her words and more importantly her restless fingers moving slowly over his were inducing.

"There's the dutiful son and the loving brother, trying to make his family proud. The fiercely loyal and protective - if sometimes a little dense - brother-in-arms and partner-in-crime. The guy who almost suffocates under the heavy burden and guilt he places on himself. And when nobody's watching he's the lost and afraid boy that can't shake the horrible things that happened to him," she finished softly, placing her hand on his chest where she knew the Bratva tattoo was etched into his skin.

A long moment passed before he could speak and even then his voice sounded hoarse, "He sounds like a handful."

Her laugh rung through her apartment and good God if that wasn't the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"You have _no_ idea. But he also his moments. Sometimes he drives across town to give me my scarf back and have a meaningful talk."

They sat like that for countless minutes, her hand on his chest feeling his every heartbeat under her fingers, while staring into each others eyes.

"How can I make things better for you?" he asked.

"You could start by giving us another evening off, preferably Friday because I was really hoping the guy I mentioned would ask me out soon," she replied cheekily, drawing patterns with her forefinger on his chest. Belatedly, he realized they were little ones and zeros.

He smiled at her. "Well, I think it was established that that guy doesn't know all that much about you, so he's probably not sure where to take you."

"Mhh, how about Italian? Everybody likes Italian, right?"

"Italian it is. How does 7pm sound?"

"Perfect," she said and smiled happily at him.

In that moment he swore he'd do anything to make sure that that beautiful smile never left her face again.

"7pm, I'll be here to pick you up."

After another moment of ear splitting smiles, he asked, "And what about work? Do you want to go back to the IT department?"

"Not right now. I do have a few promising project ideas that might be worth a look though. If they were to be approved I could form a small work group that I can supervise from 18 floors up."

His reply was eager and quick. "Done."

She shook her head slightly. "You didn't let me finish. Only if this goes through the proper channels and the funds are approved by the board of directors."

"But...," he started but quickly realized that she would shoot down any objections. "Fine," he grumbled. "Whatever makes you happy and keeps you close to me."

She beamed at him when he laced his fingers through hers where thy still lay in his lap.

"What else?"

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, her eyes darting past him to her door.

"I'd ask you stay to get a head start on that getting to know each other better thing but Roy will be here soon."

"No, he won't." He gave her an almost shy smile. "I told him to find another place to crash tonight."

"Well, in that case." She stood up and tugged at their joined hands to make him follow.

After shooting her a sheepish grin she turned around and started walking to what he assumed to be her bed room, tugging on his hand again.

But he anchored himself and pulled her right back to him, making her swivel around. His other hand landed naturally on the side of her head, his fingers curling through her soft hair, not unlike last night at that fundraiser when they'd done this for show. Except toight it wasn't for show.

He brought down his lips to meet hers, ignoring her shocked 'eep'. When their lips finally, _finally_, met it felt like he was coming home. It was a short and sweet and a little uncoordinated kiss, their noses bumping against each other, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

When he drew back he locked his eyes on hers. Smiling down at her like the completely lovestruck idiot he was, he asked, "Hey Felicity? When are we gonna talk about that Robin Hood poster?"

She slapped him lightly on the chest before stepping up on her toes to steal another quick kiss.

"Shut up," she murmured against his lips and pulled him after her as she opened the door to her bed room.

**The End**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading the story. I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comment section below ;)**

**Even though this story is over I feel like it'd be a nice starting point for a multi chap story of them getting to know each other better and getting their relationship started. Or not. What do you think?**


End file.
